


The Path to Addiction

by TimmyJaybird



Series: I've Got a Sweet Tooth for You [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joker watched him for a week, planned the perfect ambush. All he needed, after all, was five minutes alone with Bruce in the elevator, and he was sure he could get him addicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Path to Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> This follows my fic "Just a Sample". I've finally decided to turn it into a pointless, smutty series. Because, why not?

It would be simple, so long as the timing went _perfectly_.

The Joker grinned, pulling the collar of his jacket up against the harsh evening wind, smacking his lips together in joy. He was standing outside Wayne Enterprises, gazing up. Bruce was in there, he knew, because he knew his daily routine. He’d been studying him for a week now, spending every day sneaking around learning his every planned minute, his nights dreaming about the pretty man that had turned to putty in his hands. He had to have him, he’d waited long enough.

The incident in the bathroom at that restaurant felt like lifetimes ago, and the Joker was aching to see what else the man had to offer. He knew, however, it would take some enticing, quick movements with no time for thought, had to force feed Bruce another spoonful or two of him so the man would come asking for him on his own.

He slipped into the building, joined a few preoccupied business folk on an elevator. Most people were either heading home or refreshing their coffee, explaining the crowd. It worked perfectly for him, though. His hair was the only thing that gave him away, but most of these men and women were so fried and caffeine starved they didn’t notice. He was sure the keep his head down, his hair covering his scars, so they wouldn’t notice his face.

It dinged at his desired floor- floor fifteen, and he slipped off, rounding a corner to wait with one large, overly green potted plant. By his calculations, he had anywhere from five to seven minutes before Bruce emerged to take the elevator and head outside. He’d either head home, or take a brief stroll in the night air, sometimes on his cell phone, and return. The Joker didn’t see a rhyme or reason as to when he did which, but that detail didn’t matter. All he needed to do was get Bruce in the elevator for a few minutes, and his plan would go off without a hitch.

Exactly five minutes and forty-two seconds later, Bruce came walking towards the elevator. Judging by just the jacket in his hands, he wasn’t heading home yet, which was perfect. The Joker waited until he heard the ding of the elevator as the doors opened, before stepping out and around the corner, slipping in just before the doors closed. Bruce was preoccupied with his phone, but the Joker was pleased to see no one else on this particular elevator. He waited until it began to move, until they had hit floor eleven, before he leaned against the railing and smacked the button that stopped it in its tracks- half way between floors and eleven and ten.

Bruce looked up finally, jerked out of his hypnotic state by the sudden stop, eyes widening when he saw who his companion was. The Joker grinned, lifting his head so his curls could fall away from his face.

“Hellooo there, Bruce,” he purred, fingers drumming on the railing of the elevator. “Lovely to, ah, see you again.” Bruce pressed back as far as he could, the railing biting into him, his coat slipping from over his arm to the floor. The Joker straightened up, took a step closer.

“What do you want?” The slight waver in his voice made the Joker chuckle. It wasn’t fear- he could see it in those dark eyes. No, this was something else entirely.

“Oh, only _you_ , cupcake.” He reached out, took a hold of his wrist and squeezed. Bruce’s phone fell from his hand, clattered to the floor as the Joker jerked him closer, until he could almost feel the man’s breath. “I’ve been waiting, sugar, for _just_ the perfect moment. See, that little sample I got a week back, it just let me craving a little more.” He reached up with his other hand, traced one gloved finger along Bruce’s jaw. The leather felt familiar to Bruce, from the times he’d felt it crack into his jaw with his mask on, and he was ashamed to say that helped to heat his blood, though the Joker had no idea.

He could subdue him, Bruce was sure. He could make it look accidental, lucky. The Joker might be a little suspicious, but Bruce didn’t think he’d make the connection. Still, he stayed frozen, watching those red lips as the man spoke, the way the scars pulled taught over his cheeks, then relaxed with the formation of various words.

“By my calculation,” the Joker said, “we’ve got about five minutes before anyone realizes this thing is stop-ped. Maybe five and a half, if we’re lucky. And we’ve wasted, ah, thirty seconds, sweetheart.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to Bruce’s jawline as one hand pressed to his groin, palming him through his pants. “So how about we skip the cute shit and go right for the _fun_.”

Bruce exhaled a shaky breath, told himself mentally this was his chance- the Joker was distracted. He could do this. But that hand move so perfectly, tormented just as it had before, and Bruce realized he was pushing towards it, he was eager as the Joker pulled his zipper down and delved his hand in, slipping past his underwear and squeezing his erection. Bruce groaned, and the Joker was giggling.

“ _Seeee_ Brucie, you’re _ready_ for me already.” He pulled him out, planted his lips to his neck, kissed his pulse as he moved his hand, stroked Bruce just as he had a week earlier, in a way that made his knees weak. Bruce gasped, grasped the man’s upper arms to try and stay steady, tipping his head back to allow better access. “Ah, good boy,” the Joker said, his thumb swiping over the head. “See, you under _stand_ that our playtime is limited right now. Ah, only four minutes left.”

Bruce felt teeth against his skin and gasped, tried to lean forward, but his mouth was captured. The Joker kissed him with eagerness, all tongue and teeth- and Bruce realized it was _exactly_ what he wanted. There was something inside him screaming, the Bat was pissed at what he was allowing to happen, but Bruce could barely hear him- the mouth against his creating so much static that all he heard was blissful white noise.

“Tell me Brucie,” the Joker murmured against his lips, “Did you think about me after I left?” He stroked faster, and Bruce cried out, body so willing from the starvation he had forced on himself. He hadn’t allowed anyone to touch him- not even himself- since the Joker. He’d been sick with what he’d done, horrified at what he allowed to happen, that he’d given up his chance to take the man down instead and let him _touch him_.

“Yes,” Bruce admitted, and the Joker chuckled.

“And did you touch yourself?” He raised one delicate eyebrow, and Bruce saw his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“N-no,” Bruce said, shaking now. The purple leather made the whole experience different from when the Joker first touched him, but Bruce didn’t dislike it- at all.

“Oh?” Those lips seemed to form a perfect, fuckable O, and Bruce hated himself for even thinking that. “Well now darling, that’s a _shaaame_.” He released Bruce, placed his hands flat on his chest and shoved gently. Bruce stembled back, the railing digging into his lower back as the Joker fell to his knees, stared up at him through thick blonde lashes. “Let me give you something to, ah, _think_ about next time.”

Bruce wasn’t ready for that mouth. The perfect parting of those red lips, the way the Joker swallowed him down effortlessly- like he’d done this a thousand times, like Bruce’s cock and his mouth were sculpted to fir together- the way those eyelids grew heavy, the vibration of his moan around Bruce’s aching erection. It was too much- he never would have been ready.

Bruce cried out, felt one hand holding onto a thigh, the other reaching up to pressed to his chest, run down his abdomen, feel muscle beneath his clothing. Bruce shuddered, realized his hips were moving, that the Joker was letting him set the rhythm. He reached down, buried one hand in those green curls, the other holding onto the railing with white knuckles, holding on for dear life.

He felt the Joker’s tongue teasing the underside of his cock, felt the scars along the insides of his cheeks, and his fist tightened in those curls, his chest heaving with each breath. He was _so close_ , but part of him was unwilling, would not give in again to the man-

The Joker arched up suddenly, arm reaching around Bruce as he grabbed a handful of his ass, his throat opening as his lips buried in the dark curls nestled around the base of Bruce’s cock. Bruce cried out, his barrier crashing down, and threw his head back as he came, felt the Joker’s throat trying to constrict to swallow, realized he was taking every drop down and _loving_ it. When his body finally reached the end of the high, he had to release those curls and hold onto the railing with both hands, watched as the Joker leaned back on his heels and _licked his goddamn lips_.

He stood up, grinning, traced a finger down Bruce’s chest as he carefully tucked him away. “All that fun and with, ah, thirty seconds to spare,” he said. He turned, walked over towards the doors and hit a button, and suddenly the elevator lurched to life. He turned on his heels and came back, bent over and grabbed Bruce’s jack and phone, holding them out. Bruce took them with a shaking hand, and the Joker giggled. As the elevator slowed, he turned, pulled his collar back up to brace himself against the night, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Bruce,” he said, just as the doors opened, “I’m _sure_ of it.” With that he stepped off, made his way through the lobby, left Bruce alone there to try and catch his breath, and wonder what the hell had just happened to his life.

Once outside, the Joker found it hard to keep his steps steady. He made his way two blocks down, turned, and cut into an alley. He looked around, and satisfied he was alone, leaned against the cold wall and reached down, palming himself through his pants. He groaned, nearly tore at his zipper until he was free, and pumped into his leather clad fist with a growl, unable to stop it. No one had gotten him as fired up as Bruce had, except his Bat- and even then, he was beginning to think Bruce was getting the edge.

A few strokes and his head was tipped back, his body finally finding the release he’d wanted so badly while he was touching Bruce. But there simply hadn’t been time, and he needed to insure that Bruce would want more of what he had to offer.

Catching his breath, he looked down and clicked his tongue, frowning at his messy glove. He tore it off and chucked it, the other joining, and fixed his clothing, before he dug a phone out of his coat pocket and made a call.

“Harley,” he said as he moved back into the streets, “Mission’s over. Pick up time, darling.” He didn’t wait for a response, just shoved the phone away, and made his way down a few more blocks, towards where he expected Harley to promptly bee within ten minutes. She could drive fast, maybe less than ten. That’d be nice- the wind was picking up, sending a chill down into his bones.

It’d be nice to have Bruce to curl up to, let him suck the cold from right his marrow and warm him with that silken skin. The Joker was sure, if he played his cards right, that would be a reality sooner than one would think.


End file.
